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SUFISM :

Omar Khayyam and E. Fitzgerald,

BY

C. H: A. BJERREGAARD

Author of

A Sufi Interpretation of Omar Khayyam and Fitzgerald,

etc , etc, etc.

This is Tassawxif, said Juiiiyd : that God

should make Thee free from Thyself and

should make Thee live iyi Him.

A^^

LONDON A^S*^

THE SUFI PUBLISHING SOCIETY, LTD. T, C^ A2>
99, NEW BOND STREET, W.
1915

By thb same Author :

Mysticism and Nature Worship, 2 vols.
A Sufi Interpretation of Omar Khayyam and Fitzgerald.
Jesus, a Poet, a Prophet, a Mystic and a Man of F7'eedom.
The Inner Life and the Tao- Teh-King.

Numerous articles on Mysticism, Sufism, Theosophy, etc.,
in Encyclopaedias and Magazines, etc., etc.

PREFACE.

The writings of Omar Khayyam are good specimens
of Sufism but are not valued iu the West as they ought
to be, and the mass of the people know him only through
the poems of Edward Fitzgerald which is unfortunate.
It is unfortunate because Fitzgerald is not faithful to
his master and model, and at times he lays words upon
the tongue of the Sufi which are blasphemous. Such
outrageous language is that of the eighty-first quatrain
for instance. Fitzgerald is doubly guilty because he was
more of a Sufi than he was willing to admit.

Wine and Wisdom, Love and Beauty come from the
Omarian vineyard, whether we pass through merely for
pleasure or we dig down into its soil. Its wisdom leads
to salvation. Its wine gives strength. Its refrain is

" Up, ye lovers, and away ! 'Tis time to leave the world

for aye.
Hark, loud and clear from heaven the drum of parting

calls — let none delay ! "

Omar was a Sufi mystic of the order of Jellalladdin,
Attar, Saadi and the other great ones.

This book is not a reprint of my earlier one with a
title somewhat similar. It may be called a recast. It is
much changed and, I trust, improved. In fact it is a
new book. Its Interpretations are fuller and closer to
the Sufi standard. They have been remodelled and
many new thoughts have been added.

A sliort appreciation of Sufism precedes my
Interpretations.

It is with great joy that I have prepared this book
for the Sufi Society. May that Society be the means of
spreading Sufi Mysticism in the West ! I believe that
Sufism is not only fitted for the mind and heart of the
Occident, but is needed. I have been familiar with it for
more than thirty years and have been greatly benefited.

C. H. A. BjERREGAARD.

SUFISM: AN APPRECIATION.

SuFiSM may well be called a wonderful system. It
is far more than Mohammedan Mysticism. Its Islamism
is so broad that all religions, philosophies and arts can
and do use its forms, etc.

Its very name suggests universality. If it be Arabic
it means "Purity," if it be Persian it means "Wool"
and relates to the woollen garments usually worn by
Sufis. And, in its signification of " Wool " it also carries
a specific symbolic sense, known to occultists ; if the
word is Greek it has the meaning of " Wisdom." Still
other meanings have been given to the word and
name ; meanings dictated by personal idiosyncrasies or
religious inclinations.

For short, one might define Sufism as Mysticism on
the ground that it is a practice rather than a theory ; an
experience rather than a study. Like all other Mystic-
ism its aim and end is " Union with God," It seeks the
Real and shuns the mere phenomenal. Sufis call
themselves *' Followers of the Real," AJial-al Haqq.

God in Sufi conceptions is no mythological idea.
No poetic fancy has defined the Sufi ONE :

". . . . The ONE

Distributor of Evil and of Good,

Of Joy and Sorrow, Himself apart from Matter,

In Essence and in Energy — He yet

Hath fashion'd all that is — Material Form

And Spiritual. All from Him — by Him

Directed all . . . ."*

* Jami: Salaman and Absal, tr. by E. Fitzgerald.
S

Nor does imagination ordinarily rise to such ascetic
heights which makes Union with the Divine Original
possible :

" . . . . That Divine
Original, of which the Soul of Man
Darkly possest, by fierce Discipline
At last he disengages from Dust,
And flinging off the baser rags of Sense,
And all in Intellectual Light arrayed,
As Conquerer and King he mounts the Throne,
And wears the Crown of Human Glory

— Whence,
Throne over Throne surmounting, he shall reign
One with the Last and First Intelligence."*

''This is the meaning of Sufism,
Which to know wholl}^ ponder in Thy Heart,
Till all its ancient Secret be enlarged." t

Sufism as an historic factor may be traced to a
woman, Rabia. Personalities do not count in Mysticism,
but it is rather characteristic that a woman should have
given the Keys to Sufi emotionalism and Rabia has done
that. Sufism has gained thereby, I think.

Another explanation of the historic origin and
development of Sufism is given by Sufis. " The seeds
of Sufism were sown in the time of Adam, germed in
that of Nuh (Noah), and budded in that of Ibrahim
(Abraham). It began to develop in the time of Musa
(Moses), reached maturity in Isa (Jesus) and produced
pure wine in Mohammed."

Sufism is no historic sect, mor is it doctrinal in
purpose. It encourages a "feeling after God," a " mystery
of holiness," and is thus as universal as possible, for all
men seek God. Our Sufi has formulated a creed, if
so it may be called: " O God, I never listen to the cry

* ib. id. t i^- id.

of animals or to the quivering of trees or to the
murmuring of water or to the warbling of birds or to the
rustling wind or to the crashing thunder without feeling
them to be an evidence of Thy Unity and proof that
there is nothing like unto Thee." The sentiment of
these words is that of the Inner Life, a genuine Nature-
Mysticism. It is Sufism. Similarly Baba Kuhi of
Shiraz expressed himself:

" In the market, in the cloister — only God I saw.
In the valley and on the mountains — only God I saw.
Him I have seen beside me oft in tribulation ;
In favour and in fortune — only God I saw.
In prayer and in fasting, in praise and contemplation,
In the religion of the Prophet — only God I saw.
Neither soul nor body, accident nor substance,
Qualities nor causes — only God I saw.
I opened mine eyes, and by the light of His face around

me
In all the eyes discovered — only God I saw.
Like a candle I was melting in His fire :
Amidst the flames outflashing — only God I saw.
Myself with mine own eyes, I saw most clearly,
But when I looked with God's eyes — only God I saw.
I passed away into nothingness, I vanished.
And lo, I was All-living — only God I saw."*

Sufism emphasises more than any other Mysticism
that the ONE is Beauty. By so doing it opens rich
possibilities for a reconciliation between the Christian
sects and the Beautiful, so poorly understood by them,
and so often maligned. Art could thrive under that
idea.

Sufism does not encourage the senses and their
passions, but it realises that the soul "the body's very
life doth imbibe the knowledge and delight of things of
sense," and he offers that " knowledge and delight of

* Quoted in The Mystics of Islam by R. A. Nicholson.

8

things of sense " to the Beloved, the ONE, as his zvorshtp.
He does not hold " the delights " for himself, he uses
them as means of Adoration.

The Sufi cultivates Beauty as Worship. And why
not? Is he wrong because the Orthodox do not do it,
and, because of ignorance, are unable to address God in
terms of the Beautiful ?

Much of Sufi symbolism is correspondential, and is
worship. It appears when he calls God " the Beloved,"
and finds Him on the red cheeks of beautiful damsels —
in sexual love — in wine — in taverns. Such phrases are
art to him. The tavern means the call of contemplation ;
the lips open to the inscrutable mysteries of God's
essence. Tresses and curls illustrate expansion and
infiniteness. Wine is wisdom.

The Sufi loves song and music. These two are
means of Uplift and Adoration. They reach deeper than
preaching, and they can touch all hearts and find entry
where no word can penetrate. Among the Sufi's
musical instruments should be mentioned the flute,
because its mysticism is mentioned in one of " The Acts
of the Adepts," as narrated in the Mesnevi (Redhause's
translation). This is the tale.

"One day, it is said, Muhammed recited to Ali
in private the secrets and mysteries of the * Brethren of
Sincerity,' enjoining upon him not to divulge them to
any of the uninitiated, so that they should not be
betrayed ; also to yield obedience to the rule of implicit
submission.

" For forty days Ali kept the secret in his own
sole breast, and bore therewith until he was sick at
heart.

" He therefore fled to the open wilderness, and there
chanced upon a well. He stooped, reached his head as

far down into the well as he was able ; and then, one by
one, he confided those mysteries to the bowels of the
earth. From the excess of his excitement, his mouth
filled with froth and foam. These he spat out into the
water of the well, until he had freed himself of the
whole, and he felt relieved.

"After a certain number of days a single reed was
observed to be growing in that well. It waxed and
shot up, until at length a youth, whose heart was
miraculously enlightened on the point, became aware
of this growing plant, cut it down, drilled holes in
it, and began to play upon it airs, similar to those
performed by the dervish lovers of God, as he pastured
his sheep in the neighbourhood.

" By degrees, the various tribes of Arabs of the
desert heard of this flute-playing of the Shepherd, and its
fame spread abroad. The camels and the sheep of the
whole region would gather round him as he piped,
ceasing to pasture that they might listen. From all
directions the nomads flocked to hear his strains, going
into ecstasies with delight, weepingfor joy and pleasure,
breaking forth in transports of gratification.

" The rumour at length reached the ears of the
Prophet, who gave orders for the piper to be brought
before him. When he began to play in the sacred
presence, all the holy disciples of God's messenger were
moved to tears and transports, bursting forth with
shouts and exclamations of pure bliss, and losing all
consciousness. The Prophet declared that the notes of
the shepherd's flute were the interpretation of the holy
mysteries he had confided in private to All's charge.

"Thus it is that, until a man acquire the sincere
devotion of the linnet- voiced flute-reed, he cannot hear
the mysteries of the Brethren of Sincerity in its dulcet

lO

notes, or realise the delights thereof; for 'faith' is
altogether a yearniug of the heart, and a gratification of
the spiritual sense."

Dhun I'Nun, the famous Egyptian Sufi said :
"Music is a divine influence which stirs the heart to
seek God. Those who listen to it spiritually attain unto
God, and those who listen to it sensually fall into
unbelief." He also said: "When a Sufi goes into a
tavern, the tavern becomes his cell, but when a wine-
bibber goes into a cell, that cell becomes his tavern."

INTERPRETATIONS.

SUFISM AS A DOCTRINE OF LIFE.

[The sequential order follows
E. Fitzgerald's Quatrains.
Fourth Edition P\

The Sufi's call in the morning is intense. The
Muezzin's call cannot compare with it. The Muezzin's
cry is an admonition to ritual prayer, but the Sufi's
Wake! destroys illusions and restores spiritual conditions.
It heralds the Sun behind the sun : the ONE, who is
both named and unnamed.

The devout call the ONE, the Opener, Al-Fattah !
And that is profound, because the ONE is also the
Life-giver, Al-Mohyi and the Sublime, Al-Muta'ali.
The ONE in this Trinity-Call is a cry to the drowsy
ones outside: "Why nods the drowsy worshipper
outside?" The ONE is Inside, in the Temple, the
proper place. Not a temple of stone, but the Temple
pointed out by Nanac. A Moslem priest cried out
" Base infidel! howdar'st thou turn thy feet towards the
house of Allah?"* Nanac answered "And thou — turn
them, if thou canst towards any spot where the awful
house of God is not ! "

It is the ONE, Al-Jami, the Assembler, whose
voice calls the Wake ! It is Al-Jalil, the Glorious God,
who is also Ar-Razzac, the Provider, who leads the
caravan. Call the ONE by any of the other ninety-nine
names or any other ; Allah, the Great, is the Keeper of
the Heart, the Tavern and the Guide !

It is the Sufi of the heart who calls Wake ! And
his call is to the road of Salvation. Wake ! and
realize the awfuluess of a desert where the ONE is
absent I The desert of mis-spent lives, unfulfilled vows
and discontent. In that desert there is no response.
The cry goes wandering from black thoughts through

• Mecca.

12

13

weak hearts and does not even find a lodgement in

shallow brains. The heart is as empty as waste places.

It may cry " Open thou the door ! " but the cry has not

the heartburn of love, if the ONE is not in it. Even if

the Sufi's heart were love, it could not open to a mere

semblance of a soul. Ghosts of men cannot associate

with the ONE.

Those outside the tavern may call and cry "Open

thou the door ! " And they may plead that they stay

but a little and, once departed, may return no more !

" Not being the door themselves, no opening is possible."

(i.-iii.)
* * * *

New Years does not mean reviving of old desires.
It means retiring to solitudes and the eternal wells
found there ; wells which never dry up. New Years
means Spring to the Sufi and its place is the heart. And
it is of small concern that " David's lips are lockt" and
that Iram and Jamshyd's cup are lost. Drawing wine
from the eternal wells, the Sufi sings at New Years,
" Come, fill the cup ! Let the old garments lie where
you dropped them ; be young in the presence of the
Incomparable, Al-Aziz, and the All-Loving Wadud ! "

Drink wine ! wine ? Yes, but not the Zahu-Khush,
or " agreeable poison " of Jamshyd's courtlady, but *' the
wine of God's grace " and from the cup " which hath no
brim"; if it has or appears to have a brim, "it is the
fault of the cup."

The Sufi is no drunkard, though he calls for wine.
He calls for wine, but not that kind which drives wisdom
away ; nay, he wants that pure and unmixed wine
"whose hidden power vanquishes fate"; that wisdom
which saves from the burdens of all mistakes ; that
clear wine which sanctifies the heart ; that illuminating

H

wine which points out the true path ; that pearly wine
which purifies the meditative mind and its fancies.
The Sufi justifies his drinking by the poet's song :

" In drinking wine it is not my desire
To riot, or transgress the law divine ;
No ! to attain unconsciousness of self
Is the sole cause I drink me drunk with wine.

Drunkards are doomed to hell, so men declare,

Believe it not, 'tis but a foolish scare ;

Heaven will be empty as this hand of mine,

If none who loves good drink finds entrance there."

Still the infidel and the scoffer will not believe the
Sufi when he declares that the wine which is the illusion
of men, is not the wine he sings about. Wisdom is
wine and wine is wisdom.

" Allah hath promised wine in Paradise,
Why then should wine on earth be deemed a vice ? "

(iv.-vi.)

* * * *

The Sufi illustrates by a story how all men ask for
wine and do so instinctively.

Four travellers, a Persian, an Arab, a Turk and a
Greek met at the inn, and decided to have a meal
together, and as luxuriously as money could provide it.
Each contributed ten paras, all they owned individually.
The Persian proposed to buy Inghur ; the Arab, Ineb :
the Turk Uzum and the Greek Staphiliou. But as they
did not understand each other, they did not know what
was proposed and were about coming to blows when a
peasant, who had understood the various calls, brought
them a basket of grapes and explained to them that
that was what they wanted, and immediately realised
when they saw the grapes. They thought the same
thought and had the same desire. In their passion they

15

did not realise that fundamentally they had wisdom and
wanted its earthly symbol. Wisdom is but one.

" Life's fount is wine ; Khizr its guardian,
I, like Elias, find it where I can ;
'Tis sustenance for heart and spirit too,
Allah himself calls wine ' a boon to man.' "

Sufi, wine is from Allah's vats, " the Eternal Saki " ;
hence the Sufi declares

*' Where have I said that wine is wrong for all?
'Tis lawful for the wise, but not for fools."

This is Sufi wisdom: "The Cup is the body, and
the soul is the wine." (vii.-viii.)

The Sufi knows that wine opens the heart to
Al-Wali, the Beloved, the Rose, God. But those who
do not know wine are like the fishes who asked what
water was ; they had never seen it. This is the legend :

Once upon a time, the fishes in a certain river came
together in council, and someone among them said :
" They tell us that our life is from the water, but we do
not know what it is and where it is. But we may learn
wisdom if we travel to the great sea and find a very wise
fish which lives there and which can tell us what water
is. Let us travel to the great sea and ask the wise fish."
And so they did and they found the wise fish and pro-
pounded the question. As a reply they received the
following answer :

'' O ye who seek to solve the Knot !
Ye live in God, yet know Him not.
Ye sit upon the river's brink,
Yet crave in vain a drop to drink.
Ye dwell beside a countless store,
Yet perish hungry at the door."

Wine is the great sea, and the wise fish is Love.

i6

Love on land has an emblem in the rose. There
are two kinds of roses in the world. One is of Spring
and leaves by Summer. The nightingale loves that
rose more than any other flower. It rouses his amorous
longings and intoxicates him. Its thorns often penetrate
his bleeding breast ; yet he sings best when wounded.
The Sufi also loves that rose. Still you may hear him
sarcastically ask : " Where is the rose of yesterday?"

The Sufi knows also another rose. Yesterday's
rose is subject to transmutation, but the other rose is
the Rose of Mystery. The planets borrowed their
curves from it. Its stamens and pistils are shaped like
the fingers of the Beloved. That rose is the Sufi's cup
of blessedness. In it he finds the Divine Presence. It
is not far from him. It is found in the Garden of the
Beloved, (ix.)

Let the Infidel forget Kaikobad and declare him
but a name ! The Sufi measures greatness by another
stafi" than the chronicler. His measuring rod is adapted
to greatness in wisdom and its scales read oflf moral
values. The world's meter reads time and space and
does not reach beyond life's desert lines.

It is also true that Kaikhosm left Shirin and that
Zal and Ruslium are legendary heroes, but all such
knowledge is nothing compared with the Sufi's wisdom
of Malik-Ul-Mulk, the King of Kings, and who is giver
of both life and death, Al-Mohyi and Al-Mumit. (x.)

The Sufi knows perfectly well that a "strip of
herbage just divides the desert from the sown," or that

17

Life and Death are neighbours. But why should he fear
a change from the one to the other ? He knows THAT
which is beyond both. His teachers and his own heart
have taught him that " The Only Agent" is there, and,
moreover he has realized that "Love is all there is."
He has said it many times and repeats it daily, '* What-
soever instrument He makes of me, that I am." He is a
true Moslem, a *' resigned one," because he is a Lover and
because "resignation hurries the soul along 'the path
of re-union.'" Resignation does not make him a fatalist.
"The instinct of the soul protesteth against fatalism as
an error."

Death is to the Sufi a means to the expected
" Union." Hence he receives Death with a smile and a
greeting of welcome. This doctrine is found in the
Mesnevi :

" Death, that dread thing of which all mankind

stand in fear,
Is laughed and mocked at by saints when it

draws near."

The dew drop did not perish,

" But, in a shell received, that drop of dew
Into a pearl of marvellous beauty grew."

When the pearl was taken from the shell, which
the diver had torn from the ocean's bosom, it came to
even greater glory than before, it " came to gleam, chief
jewel in a monarch's diadem."

The academic critic is blind and ignorant of
Nature's law. He does not know the value of the body.
The mystic tale is this that when the earth refused to
furnish material for a body for Adam, Israfil, the Angel
of Death, loaned Gabriel and Michael parts of himself
for the Adamic body. According to his own law, Israfil

i8

takes back the loan, or, to put it in other language
" everything returns to its source."
Sufism teaches

" Death's terrors spring from baseless phantasy;
Death yields the tree of immortality ;
Since Isa breathed new life into my soul,
Eternal Death has washed its hands of me."

Isa is the Christ. The Christ life is but another
name for the immortal life, (xi.)

The Sufi knows the phenomenal world to be a mere

shadow, and faith shows it to be vanity. It is to him a

mere wilderness ; but a wilderness has no terrors for

him. The Tuba tree transforms it for him even to a

paradise. That tree sends a branch into every Believer's

home ; its scent " is the breath of eternity " ; its *' flowers

have a soul in every leaf." With a " book of verses "

from the Beloved ; with " bread and wine," ye " heaven

and earth ....

— and Thou
Beside me singing in the wilderness,"

why should the Sufi not declare himself happy ? (xii.)

It is, as the poet sings " sown for the glories of this
world, and some sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to
come." " The worldly hope men set their hearts upon
turns to ashes" for some. " Or it prospers" for others.
The Sufi knows that and not merely as a doctrine
derived from others ; he knows it as an experience.
Experience makes a Sufi.

Having drawn wisdom from Wine, or the Inner
Life, the Sufi knows that " in a little hour or two " it is

19

all gone, because this world, which man makes, is Non-
Existent. It is so the will of Allah. Some are so deaf
that they even do not hear or " heed the rumble of a
distant drum " to join the caravan which is "on the way
to God." Some others misjudge the nature of "this
batter'd caravanserai." It is only for a short stop on the
journey for Sarab, Wine, Divine Love, Life of the Heart.

The Sufi spurns the worldling's idea to " take the
cash and let the credit go," and to pay no attention to
the rumble of the drum which starts the caravan, be the
journey to the land of the Heart or the desert of Death.
Such indifference is false living, and as disastrous as to
live on credit in this world.

The Sufi demands Truth of Life and that can be
learned from the rose, which blows as richly for the
poor as for the rich. The rose's perfume is not different
in the infidel's garden, and that of the believer or the
Sufi. Love is always Love.

By the Sufi everything is done sub rosa, that is to
say under the eyes of the Beloved, God.

The Sufi is always giving out power like the
Rose. He is seminal. He who husbands is not so
rich as he who gives. Giving is getting; holding is
losing. The mystery is understood when we realise
that we are "coming to be," rather than bring. Love
understands this, (xiii.-xvi.)

The Sufi does not indulge the frivolities of the inns
or caravanserais on the route. He knows them and the
dangers they hide, as well as their allurements. He
realises the discomfort of travelling, but he does not
complain. He is a traveller who seeks God, not
pleasure, dissipation or relief from a torturing conscience.

20

He is both a Salik and a Talib, a traveller and a searcher
after God.

The Sufi is the Lover, Ashik, and God is the
Beloved, M'ashuk. The two travel together and having
the artistic soul he can understand what the Beloved
shows him ; both the personal beauties and the " batter'd
caravanserai " ; both day and night and their mysteries
of Love and Beauty. These revelations are more to him
than to the travelling merchant, because he has drunk
deep of the Beloved's wine.

The Sufi does not become a pessimist or infidel
because "the lion and the lizard keep courts where
Jemshyd gloried and drank deep." Why should he
despair because "the wild ass stamps" over the head
of Bahram, "that great hunter," but "cannot break
his sleep." Such knowledge is only a memeiito inert to
him. Very likely Jemshyd and Bahram sleep a sleep
from which there is no awakening. If they did not
drink Wisdom-Wine, what is there to awaken them ?

The drunkard and the voluptuary see the scythe
that cuts the crops, but they do not see the Master of
the Harvest pass through the fields. They see the see-
saw of things, but they were never players. They were
only spectators of their own acts, hence they are ignorant
of the ONE and of an Awakening in the ONE.

(xvii.-xviii.)

If Omar's poet had only known the full meaning of
his verse: "Ah, my Beloved, fill the cup that clears
to-day of past regret and future fears," he would not
have felt gloomy because to-morrow he might be among
" yesterday's sev'n thousand years" and the indefinite.
The Beloved whom he addressed was earthliness and

21

the cup he drained held no divine ambrosia ; its juice
was a " delicious poison."

The Sufi knows that Jemshyd's seven-ringed cup
illustrates a divine mystery : the world as God's image
reflected. The "whole heaven" is His body; "the first
intelligence " is His soul ; " the breath of the whole" is
His heart ; " the spirits of the seven planets and all the
stars" are " His powers." The world is conscious and
living, and the Sufi is a conscious member of that
mystery. Omar's poet knew a little of that mystery and
revealed it when he sang

" I sometimes think that never blows so red
The rose as where some buried Csesar bled."

The Sufi is a man of Wholeness. He reads God's
thought not merely in parts, but in the Whole. Hence,
the Sufi is a perfect type of "the nature of all things."
He is not arrogant because he thinks perfection. He
points to the flower which only gradually unfolds
" the nature of all things," but nevertheless has the eyes
of the sun, the sentiments of the moon and the aloftness
of the stars. The flower's thoughts follow the tides of
the Eternal Heart, and its perfume throbs in rhythm
with the Eternal Pulse. He is a flower in the garden
of the Beloved.

The Sufi has a will, strong as the ages, and, the
cycles of Eternity are models for his aspirations ; but
he is stronger than they.

Wisdom- Wine opens the Sufi's eye to the infinitely
small as well as to the infinitely large. An atom holds
a world. He knows that, because he has cleft it. The
birds are his sisters and the reptiles are his brothers. He
lives in fellow feeling with all the world, dead and alive.

The Sufi is a poet and the poet's poet. Beauty is

22

his ideal and the power of his song, because Beauty is
the Key to the universe. Hear a Sufi poet :

" Praise to the Lord of all the universe !

Each speck of matter did He constitute

A mirror, causing each one to reflect

The beauty of His visage. From the rose

Flashed forth His beauty, and the nightingale

Beholding it, loved madly. From that fire

The candle drew the lustre which beguiles

The moth to immolation. On the sun

His beauty shone, and straightway from the wave

The lotus reared its head. Each shining lock

Of Laili's hair attracted Majnun's heart

Because some ray divine reflected shone

In her fair face. 'Twas He to Shirin's lips

Who lent that sweetness which had power to steal

The heart from Parviz, and from Farhad life.

His Beauty everywhere doth show itself,

And through the forms of earthly beauties shines

Obscured as through a veil. He did reveal

His face through Joseph's coat, and so destroyed

Zuleikha's peace. Where'er thou seest a veil.

Beneath that veil He hides. Whatever heart

Doth yield to love, He charms it. In His love

The heart hath life. Longing for Him, the soul

Hath victory. That heart which seems to love

The fair ones of this world loves Him alone.

Beware ! sa)^ not, ' He is All-Beautiful,

And we His lovers ! ' Thou art but the glass,

And He the face confronting it, which casts

Its image in the mirror. He alone

Is manifest, and Thou in truth art hid.

Pure love, like beauty, coming but from Him

Reveals itself in thee. If steadfastly

Thou canst regard, thou wilt at length perceive

He is the mirror also ; He alike

The Treasure and the Casket. * I ' and ' Thou *

Have here no place, and are but phantasies

Vain and unreal. Silener ! for this tale

Is endless, and no eloquence hath power

To speak of Him. 'Tis best for us to love

And suj6fer silently, being as nought — "

23

The Sufi has learned his lessons in art too well not
to know what curves in Nature's architecture and
anatomy mean ; or, to ignore the eloquence of the curly
hair of his beloved dame, or the color of her eyes and
cheek. Such expressions fill his Book of Art, and,
shafts of light fly from his poetry, (xix-xxi.)

" Ourselves must we beneath the couch

of earth descend ? "

Certainly ! Why not ? Let us laugh or cry ! What
is the difference? The point to realise is that life is in
the main a torrent rushing beneath the bridge on which
we stand. The bridge is our individuality and the
torrent is the mutation of things. The stream is not in
our power; it is neither good or bad, but indifferent.

It is as Pascal said : " ]\Ian is but a reed, weakest in
Nature, but the reed which thinks. Were the Universe
to crush him, man would still be more noble than that
which has slain him, because he knows that he dies.
The Universe knows nothing of this."

The thinking being is above and superior to blind
forces and rushes of energy, (xxii.-xxiii.)

The Sufi wants to be generous and joyously he
makes a couch for others and he can well agree with the
winedrinker to

" Make the most of what we yet may spend,
Before we too into the dust descend."

But he " spends" diflferently than the hopeless and the
pessimist. He spends his energies to realise his own
dignity as Man.

24

*' Man, what thou art is hidden from thyself ;
Know'st not that morning, mid-day, and the eve
Are all within thee ! The ninth heaven art thou ;
And from the spheres into the roar of time
Didst fall ere- while ; thou art the brush that painted
The hues of all the world, — the light of life
That ranged its glory in the Nothingness."

The Sufi's aim is that dignity. *' He buys the next
world with this." He exchanges the Nothing for Being.

The Sufi also agrees with the drunkards that he
shall descend

" Dust into dust, and under dust, to lie.
Sans wine, sans song, sans singer, and — sans end ! "

But here again he differs from the infidel. That
part of him which is to lie in the dust is not truly
himself, but only something borrowed.

The Sufij Shamzi of Tabritz, explains his true end : —

" I am not of Nature's min, nor of the circling heavens —
My place is the placeless ; my trace is the traceless ;
'Tis neither body nor soul, for I belong to the soul of
the Beloved."

And all Sufis exclaim with one voice

" This life, that heaven hath lent me for awhile,
I will pay back, when it is time to pay."

When the Sufi has paid his tribute to " the way ot
manifestation," he arises into where there is neither
*' I "nor*' Thou." (xxiv.)

The Sufi is not afraid of strong language. He
condemns the drunkards, those who drink the juice of
** birth and death " only : *' Fools ! your reward is neither
here nor there ! " No reward can be coming ! The
next "place" or *'the future," to speak in terms of
space and time, can hold no rewards for those who have

25

never been sober enough to see Truth, or free enough
to perceive Beauty, or unselfish enough to do good.
*' Saints and Sages," who are but "foolish prophets"
discuss the subject of *' rewards." The Sufi does not.
He lives on the heights of vision ; they stay in deep
cellars shutting out light and air by intellectual screens.
By intellect alone *' we come out of the same door
that we go in by." By intellect alone we never ascend in
the house, the House of God. Even they who rise to the
" throne of Saturn," the prince of desire, cannot solve
** the master-knot of human fate." Sufi, Love, Beauty
and Rhythm master everything and everywhere.

(xxv.-xxvii.)
* * * *

Those who graduate from the schools of learning
realise sooner or later " I came like water, and like wind
I go." The teacher revealed no finality. They, them-
selves, never awakened to an answer to the questions
why? whence? whither? "Like water willy-nilly
flowing " they can quench no thirst of soul, though they
may drive the mills of the Superior Man. They may be
as " winds along the waste," raising dust and destruction,
but they can never make safe and sure foundations out
of shifting sands. Their habitat is the desert and they
make deserts. Learning withers the soul. They are
emptiness and that blasphemy which comes from
psychic spheres, crying :

" . . without asking, hither hurried whence ?
And without asking, whither hurried hence ? "

The Sufi cries : let go the flesh, the understanding
and volition, too — " abide in truth ! " But he is patient
and forbearing. Maybe the Magus has risen

" Up from earth's centre through the seventh gate."

26

But, surely he has come back no wiser if he did not find
the Beloved. Reality is not seen in smoke-woven
pictures; nor does the ONE appear in the shadow
plays of psychism. (xxviii.-xxxi.)

Some veils reveal ; others hide. The Sufi knows
them. The " Thee " and the " Me " are veils which hide.
When there is no more of "Thee" and "Me" the
mystery may be revealed. Behind the "Thee" and the
" Me " lies the mystery of the " We,"— Unity. As long
as the pilgrim asked admission to Paradise and spoke
of himself as "I," the door remained closed and no
answer was made to his request for admission ; so the
legend tells. But, when he returned after thousands of
years of solitary sufferings, and mentioned " we," the
the door opened immediately.

"Unity," which is the mystery of "we," unravels
the " master-knot of human fate," and by it we can read
the tablets of creation and drink long and freely from
the " eternal wells " which flow with wisdom- wine and
never dry up. " Unity" is a veil which reveals.

The nightingale and his song taken separately is a
veil which hides. The rose, the thorn and the bleeding
breast separated from "Unity" are merely parts of
Manifoldness, and veiled. The Mystic can remove the
veil, and, only he.

The Sufi has discovered in his own heart that
" Nature is a kind of illuminated table of the contents
of the Spirit," hence he knows the language of the seas,
the mountains, the heavens and all there is and was and
shall be. The universal name for that language is Love.
The best grammar is written by the heart.

(xxxii.-xxxiv.)

27

Conscience is " Unity." Said Shamsi Tabritz :

" The Centre is within me, and its wonder
lyies as a centre everywhere about me."

In that "Centre" the Sufi knows who He is, and,
that " angel and beast Man's wondrous leaven compose."
The Sufi therefore may learn from " a poor earthern urn"
and draw out its secrets.

The secret also lies in the Cup. The sot drinks
from his cup and thirsts again. And the time comes
when he shall neither thirst nor drink, nor, even ask for
a drink. The Sufi also drinks from a cup and one
drink quenches all his thirst. That drink is both sub-
stance and plan. When the building is finished, the
plan is revealed and its phenomenal shape is needed no
more. Its idea is one with the building and the building
is one with it. (xxxv.-xxxvi.)

Attar's name is given to the richest and sweetest
perfume extracted from the petals of roses. Attar was
a representative of Persian Sufism.

A story about a potter's cla}' has rolled from of old
down man's successive generations. When the potter
thumped his wet clay it murmured : "Gently, Brother,
Gently, pray ! " Attar first of all told that story and
since it is flavoured with bitter-sweet mortality, I will
tell it again :

"One day the Prophet on a river bank.
Dipping his lips into the channel, drank
A draught as sweet as honey. Then there came
One who an earthen pitcher from the same
Drew up, and drank ; and after some short stay
Under the shadow, rose and went his way,
Leaving his earthen bowl. In which, anew
Thirsting, the Prophet from the river drew,

28

And drank from. But the water that came up
Sweet from the stream, drank bitter from the cup.
At which the Prophet in a still surprise
For answer turning up to heav'n his eyes.
The vessel's earth'n lips with answer ran :
* This clay that I am made of once was Man,
Who dying, and resolved into the same
Obliterated earth from which he came.
Was for the potter dug, and chased in turn
Through long vicissitudes of bowl and urn,
But howsoever moulded, still the pain
Of that first mortal anguish would retain,
And cast, and re-cast, for a thousand years
Would turn the sweetest water into tears.' "

(xxxvii .-xxxviii . )

The Sufi does not teach re-incarnation. He
regenerates, but does not re-incarnate. Because he
discards the laws of cause and effect as purely time
questions and as not belonging to Being, he discards the
re-incarnation theory as an unnecessary theory. The
problems of life and death, birth and death, cause and
effect, belong to an unjustified and unproved doctrine.
Re-incarnation presupposes an inexorable law, which
our daily life disproves. Contrary to the claims of the
re-incarnationists, life does show mercy and most
people's life experience proves that they are not subject
to a cruel law they cannot escape. Whether they know
it clearly or not, they have experienced that Love is the
law of Life. Love is all there is. Love or compassion
in all forms can be shown to be at least as prominent a
law as iron-hard Necessity. The Sufi asserts that Love
is the fundamental order of the Universe.

Tesawuf is not re-incarnation ; it is regeneration or
unfoldment, and, since time and space conceptions
are no more than illusions, they do not enter into

29

re-generations. Fana is not extinction, it is the con-
summation of the "journey to God" ; it is transmutation
and ascension. The Sufi's life is self-unfoldment, the
perfection in Love. Thus declared the Mesfievt :

" From the moment you came into the world of being
A ladder was placed before you that you might escape.
First you were mineral ; later you turned to plant,
Then you became animal : how should this be a secret

to you ?
Afterwards you were made man, with knowledge,

reason, faith ;

"When you have travelled on from man, you will

doubtless become an angel ;
After that you are done with this earth, your station

is in heaven.
Pass again even from angelhood : enter that ocean !
Through it all you are and you remain You."

Walking in the garden of the Beloved, the Sufi
opens his bosom, like the tulip, to " the morning sun."
In the morning both lift up their eyes to the " turkis-
vaulted dome of the sky " to be united with the Supreme
Intelligence which moulded both. When sunshine and
cool breezes in the morning wash the sleep off the
earth's eyes, they both " utter speech " and reverberate
with the brotherhood idea, the passion which binds all
the worlds in " Unity." When the day is born, the eye
of Glory triumphs in the firmament ; the stars hide
themselves away and the tulip and the Sufi hoist their
flag of allegiance, their brightest colours, and sing for
joy. This is just after an hour of silence, immediately
before day. In that hour of silence new-born innocence
comes into the world. It is baptised in dew and may
be communed with in the Love of the Inner Life.

(xxxix.-xl.)

30

After prayer the Sufi is *' perplext no more with
Human or Divine." Prayer is conversation with the
Beloved and is never an asking. Lovers never ask.
They give. They praise and give thanks. They empty
the cup, but never wrangle about truth. They enjoy
the beauty of creation : that is their religion ! What else
could be religion ? Religion is the enfoldment of God
and His world in the Lover's embrace. Enfoldment
means understanding in wisdom and nobleness of
purpose. Hence no perplexity.

If the restless one ask :

*' And if the wine you drink, the lip you press
End in what All begins and ends in — "

then the Sufi answers that he cultivates them ceremoni-
ously for the sake of universal religion and that he does
not dare to neglect them. He has said often and repeats
it again that he is not afraid to meet " the angel of the
darker drink." He knows as well as other mystics that
Darkness is an attribute of the ONE. It means that
there is no distinctions in the ONE, the Beloved. It
means that the Angel of Darkness is the ONE
HIMSELF, who is beyond day and night, beyond the
first and the last. But He is not an Unknown. The
Sufi and He are of one family. And His "Hereafter"
is no place where shades frighten each other or chase
bloodless ghosts. His "Hereafter" always was and
never was not, nor has it place or abode. It is "Unity."

(xli.-xliii.)

The Sufi is not troubled by intellectual distinctions.
Being familiar with the mysteries of veils, he can
appreciate a curve, be it the lover's tresses or any other
curvature. Besides the reality revealed, he indulges in

31

art and symbolism. The flameshaped cypress uplifts
him by its erect form. Even the dust is pastoral and
the change from day to day is prophetic.

But symbolism is of small account when he realises
that Truth is naked. He will not delay, linger and wait
in the tavern when the Outside or the Open is in
deshabille, in the state of Nature. Why should he? He
is no irrational ascetic ashamed of his bodily appearance
or his earthly tabernacle. He is right when he sings
" I am the brick, the mortar, the builder, and his plan."

He is built after the law of four foldness and cannot
express beauty except by his body ; this body is the
miiror in which he exhibits loveliness, strength,
perfection and riches.

All beauty is personal. It is essentially Divine-
Human and Human-Divine. The Sufi is the world's
aesthetician par excellence. The studio, or the body and
the study. The body is his museum of models. And
yet the body is only a stopping place in the pilgrimage.

(xliv.-xlvi.)

The Sufi is no more bound than any other wise
man to answer all questions. Not only are numerous
questions idle but unnecessary. I may ask why I did
not meet my soul-mate yesterday, when I wanted her,
as I thought. My question has been answered by the
fact that I did not meet her. Facts are the Logos in
operation. The Sufi may answer silly or unnecessary
questions by the conventional " I do not know " ! That
answer does not necessarily declare him ignorant of the
mysteries, as the scoffer may think. If the questions
were accompanied by life-facts, the Sufi would have no
difficulty in pointing out the Divine Wisdom hidden

32

from the fool and unrecognisable by him. The Sufi is
also justified in answering questions by laying his finger
upon his lips, bidding silence to the insincere and
curious. The Sufi is neither a sophist nor a hypocrite.

Instead of wasting energy upon triflers, the Sufi
likes to retire and observe the workings of the Divine
Spouse. A pebble can entertain him. To him it is full
of heavenliness. He thinks like Jacob Bohme did, that
a stone is " God minus warmth." The geologist is
right, he thinks, that the stone came into existence as a
result of the passionate fight between water and fire,
when the earth was yet too young to remember it.
Poets can hear pebbles moan when the ocean rages on
the shore and they interpret the moans as reminiscences
from the time before light was, and, the pebbles were
living forces in the primitive chaos. The Sufi likes to
throw a stone into a lake and observe the concentric
circles generated and move into the circumference, an
indefinite purpose which however seems to continue
endlessly, if not checked by an interfering object, such
as, for instance, the shore of the lake. Surely the
pebble is No-thing, yet Some-thing. Something insig-
nificant, yet able to start world motions. The Sufi
prefers to meditate upon such phenomena ; they lead to
Contemplation or the Beholding of the Beloved. His
thoughts move from the ONE to the Many, and from
the Many to the ONE. His energy is in that way
occupied with Being and Not-Being, and his heart's
deep-tuned chords give existence to the Divine. He
becomes a creator.

The deep tune may be but

" A moment's halt — a momentary task
Of Being . . ."

but in that moment the Sufi -perceives the Eternal Life.

33

That moment is not of time nor measured by the hand
of the clock. It is a sudden inrush of Reality. It is an
opening up inwards. It is an " indivisible point " yet of
inward dimensions unknown to mathematics. The
realisation or experience of such a moment compensates
the Sufi, and any other Mystic, for the loss of time and
space values and all that which the senses enjoy.

(xlvii.-xlix.)

The "momentary taste" of the Presence is a
communion with the Beloved. The Sufi calls it a
"pastime of eternity," and looks upon it as a drama
which runs " through creation's veins," and he is happy.
He will never, nor can he ever, see that drama as
contrived and enacted by the Beloved for Himself alone.
The Beloved is not self-seeking in His outgoing. His
Presence is not the lion's den in which all trails end
and none are emerging.

The " momentary taste" opens a *' Well amidst the
Waste " ; it awakens the Master and his Treasure-house.

The Sufi candidate can and will wait all his earthly
life for the " momentary taste" and will never in despair
commit suicide, thinking thereby to attain his desire.
Perhaps it is true that "a hair divides the false and the
true," and if it were, a negation like suicide could not
bridge that divide. (l.-lii.)

The "momentary taste " manifests that which the
Gulshan I Raz declares to be " the secret Presence " :

" I am the spirit of the grape, the wine press and its
juice ;
The guest, the host, the crystal cup that shineth in
His hall."

34

How could the singer who represents Omar dare to
call out to us: "Oh! make haste!" to quit this dust
existence. Does he perhaps call to a Wisdom-Wine
conference? I^et us take it that way. To-day is the

accepted hour ! (liii.-liv.)

* * * *

The Sufi candidate passes into the Truth when he
divorces "old barren reason" from his bed and takes
" the daughter of the vine to spouse" — love and beauty !
That daughter is "life's pure elixir," and she leads him
into the " trance divine."

The Sufi candidate may begin in the senses, but soon
he discards them by this declaration: "Our senses
barren are ; they come from barren soil." But as he
progresses he learns to value the senses as so many
roads to " the spacious land of God." The roads are not
" the spacious land of God," but lead to it. So the
senses, they are not finalities, but means to ends.

(Iv.-lvi.)

* * * *

The Sufi does not recognise the astronomical or
social calendars. Why should he? They divide time
for those who do not know time and who are satisfied to
be score marks for their own or other's foolish acts.
Such people do not know the Now — they live in the past
or the future, which means that they do not live at all.

The Sufi is himself a Calendar and not only of the
Now, but of the Beloved's. visits to his heart. To be a
Calendar does not make him a time-piece, a dial, or a
pendulum swinging from Being to Not-being and back
again. The Sufi is a Calendar in this way :

" From all eternity, the figures of all things
Unnumbered, multitudinous, gleam in his heart's
winofs."

35

Says the Sufi, " Seek not the Kaaba, rather seek a

heart" — because "at each moment it records fresh

beauty's train." (Ivii.)

The Sufi cultivates " that grape which can with
Logic absolute, The two-and-seventy jarring sects
confute." He is a Logos-man and angels bring him
*' the imperial bowl," full of " the juice of God." They
master *'the sovereign alchemist" who transmutes lead
into gold. Another name for that alchemist is *'the
cup that clears To-day of past regret and future fears."
Still another name is Wisdom-Wine, or, which is the
same as Wine- Wisdom ; under either form the grape is
an " Allah-breathing Lord." The Sufi has no real
"regret and future fears" because "Wine, tasteless and
odourless, washes away the writing on the tablet of
being." Regrets and fears are winter- garments. " In
the fire of Spring," the Sufi flings them away and
becomes young. (Ivii.-lix.)

" Purge yourself from affirmations and negations,"
says the Gulsliam I Raz, then the wine can affect you.
Drink Isa's cup and come out of the tangled webs of
wilfulness and the wilds of selfishness. In that cup you
may find yourself. Your image is in it. Drink wine,
and sleep that sleep the Cupbearer brings with it. That
sleep is an awakening to the control of the world.

Wine, that " Allah-breathing Lord " :

" Taverns have been edified by His lips,
Mosques have been illumined by His cheek."

36
Shablsham confesses :

*' All my desire has been accomplished through Him ;
Through Him I gained deliverance from infidel lust.
My heart was hid from knowledge of itself by a

hundred veils,
By pride and vanity and self-deceit and illusion. —
That fair idol entered my room at early morn
And awakened me from the sleep of negligence.
By His face the secret chamber of my soul was

illumined,
Thereby I saw what I myself really am."

(Ix.-lxi.)

Why should the Sufi care about the *' threats of hell
and hopes of paradise " ? He does not want either. The
Beloved is the Faithful, yea Momin is His Name ! And
He is Wadud, the All-Loving! The Sufi takes no
notice of the infidel's complaint :

*' No one returns to tell us of the road.
Which to discover we must travel too."

He knows of no roads in the Beloved's kingdom becaUwSe
there are no distances in it. It is all ONE. Talks of
space are ravings of learning and the Doctor's play with
fictions. Many Sufis have told us :

" I sent my soul through the Invisible,
Some letter of that After-life to spell :
And by and by my Soul return'd to me,
And answer'd, ' I myself am Heav'n and Hell ! ' "

(Ixii.-lxiv.)

Common observation maintains that " the flower
that once has blown for ever dies." As a sensuous fact
it is true, but it is not true according to the Sufi's
understanding.

37

To all appearance the flower is gone, but its aroma
lingers and that is the soul of the flower ; the petals and
stamens are the nerve forces which convoy the aroma
to my soul : soul to soul. After they have convoyed
the ships, the convoys sail away. The petals and
stamens are convoys only. The ignorant call them the
flower.

Yesterday is part of to-day. My Beloved is the
same to-day as yesterday, though yesterday a maiden,
to-day a matron. The aroma of yesterday is enhanced
by the breath of the matron, the motherhood of God and
Futurity.

Where is that individuality, the ignorant talks about?
What is it ? Who can define it ? Where does it begin
and where does it end ? Even pushing his search back,
and, back of the microscope, the unbeliever cannot find
it. It is constantly only an appearance, an unreality.
Everywhere the searcher finds the ONE in the
Many.

The ungodly and self-assertive know no world
larger than that of the worms in the pond. They
never ascend the mountains. No Alpine air ever expands
their lungs, nor do their eyes behold the azure air on
the Heights, that blue of the heavens, which has the
power to lift the body ofi" its feet.

Nature is to the Sufi a background for his visions. He
perceives innumerable eyes everywhere and sees swarming
intelligences. They are the Monads which make up the
world, the throne of God. They are not of shapes
known or unknown to men and they are imperishable.
They may occasionally appear to man, and are like man
though they are "trailing clouds of glory." They are
sometimes called ' ' powers and principalities." Whatever
they do, they are indivisible entities. They are naked

38

spirits, but known to the Sufi. The unbelievers cannot
comprehend this. (Ixv.-lxvii.)

The Sufi will not listen or believe when you tell
him that the Beloved is " the master of the show " and
that we are only "magic shadow-shapes that come
and go." To think so is a result of delusions. The
ignorant and the stupid believe that it is the land which
moves when it really is the ship on which they are for
the time being. Thus it is only appearances which cause
the conception that we are unfree beings, balls thrown
hither and thither, '* helpless pieces of the game He plays."

We are travellers and the Persian proverb says
Gurbat Ktirbatasis, "travel is travail " — but our travelling
is not from one geographic place to another, it is the
giving birth to the New Man and that is a "travail."
No man was ever born without the shedding of blood.

(Ixviii.-lxx.)

Sufism teaches that " the way of manifestations "
moves among " opposites." It moves between "Evil"
and " Good," though these are not true " opposites."
They are "primeval twins," the old Parsees thought.
The Sufi therefore frequently uses symbols as means
of expression. Said Omar in the language of his poet

" I never drank of joy's sweet cordial
But griefs fell hand infused a drop of gall ;
Nor dipped my bread in pleasure's piquant salt,
But briny sorrow made me smart withall."

It is especially to candidates for initiation that this
lesson of opposites is given. Till they ignore the
wormwood, they are not ready for initiation. Till they

39

have ceased laughing and weeping they cannot see "the
everlasting arms " underneath the manifestations. (Ixxi.)

The Sufi is bound for heaven, but not for " that
inverted bowl " they call the sky. The horizon is not
his heaven nor any space round about. He steers for
the No- Where, which is the Every- Where. He is both
the ship and the helmsman. Drink and look upon
yourself :

" By God, when you behold your own beauty in the
mirror
You will be the idol of yourself, you will not pass over
to another." (Ixxii.)

* * * *

The Sufi does not object to the philosophical dis-
cussions about cause and effect. He even nods assent.
Why not ? Admitting the reality of the phenomenal
world, the conclusions as to cause and effect follow by
necessity. Such reasoning belongs to the "Way of
Manifestation." But the Sufi is not of that Way. He
is above it and more. There is a profound meaning in
his triumphant song

" Of my base metal may be filed a key
That shall unlock the door."

A Dervish is not always a Sufi. He is often no
more than a fool, a howling fool, and cannot understand
alchemistry. If he cannot understand that the Inn, the
Innkeeper and Light are one, then he is no Dervish, but
only a religious mendicant. He is a Dervish who has
left the world ; but he is a beggar whom the world
ignores.

The Sufi has brought the wine with him from " the
eternal home " and gets more from thence. Isa is that

40

wine. Before the Prophet's time that wine was "the
longing of the ages." The mystics have found the
sources whence to draw that wine, and they give it to all
who thirst for immortality. It is a custom to speak
about wine, but some say Truth, and, the wise say that
the terms mean the same. Some, who know, say that
Isa's wine cup is never empty, and cannot be emptied-.
It is with this cup as with a flame. You may light a
thousand from one, but the original flame never grows
less for it. Believers also say that the more you drink,
the richer it flows. He who drinks Isa's wine becomes
a Kutub, a " pivot of the world." (Ixxiii.-lxxv.)

Shabisham, the Sufi, wrote over his door :

*' Did ever one learn knowledge from the dead?
Was ever lamp lighted from ashes ?
For this cause my mind is resolved on this,
To gird my loins with the Magician's girdle."

The Magician's girdle is the vine. Certainly ! The
occult in the orb and cycle is explained by the circling
lines of the vine and the juices of its grape. It holds
*'the line of beauty," and thereby a heavenly passion
and bright light. Its curves hold infinite love and the
creative power of life. When our loins are girdled by
it we become artists and orators. Its persuasive power
is irresistible. It shows life and existence in glories
unknown. The vine and the girdle have the power of
revelation. The Sufi also declared, "the knotted girdle
is the emblem of obedience." It is therefore that he
advises his disciples :

" Cast away vain tales, and mystic states and visions.
Dreams of light and marvels of miracles.
Your miracles are comprised in Truth-worship.
All beside is pride, vainglory and illusion of existence."

41

Thus the Sufi places psychic phenomena below " Truth-
worship." They do not perfect. They entertain. But by
Truth, by the circling vine and " the knotted girdle " we
become equals to Khizr, "the green man," he who
drank "the waters of life." Who shall also know why
the heavens are whirling around themselves in oppo-
sitions and conjunctions, always " confessing the rule
of the Master." And, moreover, it is said in the
Gulsham I Raz :

*' Behold the world entirely comprised in yourself:
You are the kernel of the world in the midst thereof.
Know yourself that you are the world's soul."

(Ixxvi.-lxxvii.)

Iblis is the Wicked one, the Profligate. He is that
distrustfulness which lingers on the minds of many and
is difficult to drive out of the crevices of the brain. He
it is which framed the thoughts that God called us out
of, "senseless Nothing," and beset our road "with
pitfall and with gin," only to condemn us to " ever-
lasting penalties." The Beloved, God, of course never
did do that or could do it ! Iblis causes those shadows
and illusions which betray us. No " everlasting
penalties" are heaped upon "helpless creatures."
Breaking the law unconsciously only keeps us longer on
the road. We stay till we overcome our carelessness.
The stay is for correction and perfection.

" My words are dark, but I cannot unfold
The secrets of the * station ' where I dwell."

(Ixxviii.-lxxx.)

42

Omar's poet, Fitzgerald, committed a grievous sin
when he framed the eighty-first quatrain about God
taking man's forgiveness.

No Sufi could ever be guilty of such blasphemy.
Sufism is never profane.

The Sufi is silent !
He concentrates, that his power

may lift the burden of profanation caused
by so much sin !

After silence comes Ramazan. The fast is called
Raza or expiation. In seclusion, 'Itiqvaf, the pious
suffer for the impious.

43

The Potter's house is full of " shapes of all sorts and
sizes, great and small." Great is the loquacity. The
wise man does not force silence. The pots may " find
themselves" by declaring themselves. And the wise
may learn wisdom even from fools and simpletons.
" Whoso seeketh wisdom shall have no great travail :
for he shall find her sitting at his door." " Wisdom is
the worker of all things." She is in every inn. Get
wisdom and you are safe.

" With treasures in our sleeves, with empty purse,
We, though road dust, reflect the Universe."

Hafiz put it that way and he was a great professor
in Wine- Wisdom ; Wisdom-Wine. (Ixxxiii-lxxxv.)

Our pot complained :

" They sneer at us for leaning all awry :
What ? did the Hand then of the Potter shake ?"

Nay, the pot did not lament the fate or the shape.
The Sufi is a model in satisfaction with things as they
are or coming to be. Because

" Each speck of matter did He constitute
A mirror, causing each one to reflect
The beauty of His visage ....
His beauty everywhere doth show itself.
And through the forms of earthly beauties shines
Obscured as through a veil."

No matter if the Sufi finds himself "ungainly " or
not. Love and Wisdom make the soul express eternal
Beauty. *' Could we but find it," we should see how all
Nature's forms and shapes hold Beauty. (Ixxxvi.)

No matter if terms of reproach be thrown at him
by the unbeliever, the Sufi quietly asks the philosophers :

44

** How often have ye not held up to the world a lantern
without light ? " And equally quiet he has silenced and
confounded the " loquacious lot " by declaring that only
by submission of the heart can we learn wisdom and
come under the soothing influence of Beauty.

If he be asked : *' Who is the Potter, pray, and who
the Pot?" he answers quickly: "The two are one!
Alike the treasure and the casket." Beauty teaches that
lesson. (Ixxxvii.)

The Sufi can see the humour of things. He ever
loves the wag ; drollery is not unwelcome. " He is a
good fellow, and 't will all be well." But the Sufi
himself is silent. He has learned that from the sun.
Where is the sound of the last storm — gone ! What
did it teach ? Noise and then — silence ! Even loquacity
is part of " the sorting, sifting and redistributing process
of nature." But e'er long the Sufi calls out : " O Saki,
give me that imperial bowl, Which opens the heart,
exhilarates the soul."

And the Sufi returns to his meditations. He
follows the direction of the Hadis, Tradition, which
says : ** Think on the mercies of God, not on the essence
of God." The Wine- Wisdom makes the introrscun
asce?idere a fact.

" Wine, the torch and beauty are epiphanies of Verity,
For it is that which is revealed under all forms soever."

For it is as I^ahiji explained : " Wine is the rapture
which makes the Sufi beside himself at the apparition
of the Beloved ; the Torch, the Light, kindled in his
heart ; and Beauty, the Truth itself manifested and
present." (Ixxxviii.-lxxxix.)

45

The Sufi may also let those talk who want to talk ;
but he himself goes out to solitude as did the Persians
before him. They went to the moon for ** light and
goodness." The Sufi does not "bend to the moon,"
however. The moon has Wine for him and the Beauty
of the night, (xc.)

* * * *

Even when going to sleep in the socalled death,
the Sufi insists upon retaining the character of life. He
asks

"... lay me, shrouded in the living- \eaf,
By some not unfrequeiited garden-side."

How could a Truth-man act otherwise ? And why
should he not continue to bear witness ? Do not all the
Sufis do it? Are we not to-day intoxicated by the
Wine- Wisdom of those gone before ?

The world does not understand our intoxication
and never did. We care not for the condemnation
heaped upon us. When the world is intoxicated it is
sullied in mind. When the Sufi is intoxicated he is a
"Soul of Soul." "Souls of God" are defined by
Maruf-al-Karkhi as being known by three signs : " Their
Thought is of God ; their Dwelling is with God ; and
their Business is in God."

The world is bltttd, hence its degrading intoxication.
Abu Suleiman al-Darami has left us this Marifat
(Gnosis) : " None refrains from the lusts of this world
save him in whose heart there is a light which keeps
him always busied with the next world."

The Sufi asks for a " living leaf" : a leaf from " the
tree of life." The Lord of Life should not be worshipped
with faded flowers nor should his representative the Sufi
be buried with such. It is a beautiful custom and true

46

to pure sentiment that those who lie on the bier should
rest among flowers from their own gardens : their own
self.

The Sufi is a pilgrim in life, hence it is but proper
that he be laid " by some not unfrequented garden-side,"
a place where other pilgrims pass and continue to
pass. He can thus continue to witness to Beauty : the
Beauty of the Garden ! Moreover his interior illumina-
tion continues to shine over his tomb dissolving the
illusions which Death weaves. Occasionally he may
make use of echoes and shadows among the living and
thus be personally present, (xci.)

The Sandal tree sheds perfume upon the axe which
cuts it down. The ashes of the Sufi sing Hallelujahs at
burial. They are not "ashes to ashes." They are his
artistic tools; pen and brush, compasses, paint, etc.
They "fling up into the air" such vintage that "not
a True-believer passing by, but shall be overtaken
unaware."

That "vintage" is not an illusion. Persia, the
land of the original Sufi, is the land of roses and
jasmin. Nevertheless, where you travel you breathe an
air still scenting fire-worship and ancient aromatic
spirit-essences. On Cathedral lofty vaults the open
eye often spies mystic designs left there by the intensity
of a prayer. The battle-smoke still hangs over many an
ancient battle-ground.

The Sufi is Love's devotee. That is why he is
related to the Fire-worshipper of old, the Gueber. The
orthodox thereby refuses him a " robe of honour." But
he cares not. The coat of the Dervish is better. It is
not made of Cairene cloth, to be sure, but of tattered

47

rags saturated with holiness and memories of lovefeasts.
Much wine has been spilled upon it. (xcii.-xciv.)

The discontented ones, those vexed because the
universe does not operate according to their wishes and
demands, complain

** . . that Spring should vanish with the rose !
That youth's sweet-scented manuscript should close !
The nightingale that in the branches sang,
Ah, whence, and whither flown again, who knows?"

But the Sufi does not complain or vex. He is
himself a bird of passage. But he does lament or bewail
the fate of children and the immature. Their journey is
so short that it does not seem possible for them to solve
any of life's riddles. However, he empties his cup and
cries : " Let what will be, be."

Again, malcontent exclaims: "Would but the desert
of the fountain yield one glimpse." And this time it is
both grumbling and blindness, because all holy books
show the fountain, the fountain of youth, in the desert,
and tell us that all deserts may be made fruitful lands
by the Beloved, if we only would obey the cosmic laws,
which are his will. There would be no crosses to bear,
if we obeyed the laws of our life or stood in Truth of
Life. The crosses arise when our path crosses the path
of the Beloved.

Moreover deserts are not necessarily desolate and
without evidence of the Beloved's presence. Some
deserts are heaths and melancholy stretches of land, but
the lark sings there and the bees love heather flowers.
Others are prairies, but their monotone holds the voice
of the Beloved. Others are sand and stones and subject

48

to storms and destructive tornadoes, etc., but they are
awe-inspiring nevertheless. The Beloved is always
present, directly or indirectly — ** if dimly, yet indeed,
revealed." (xcv.-xcvi.)

At times the Sufi becomes impetuous and in his
vehement aspirations he would " arrest the yet unfolded
roll of fate." But this outburst of his is not a raving
against " this sorry scheme of things " as the infidel
calls the world order.

The " roll of fate " does not exist outside of the
infidel's mind. The Beloved's will is not hard or cruel ;
it is none other than man's own personality, and that can
he changed. Love is all there is ; it is man's law and it
is the law of the Beloved. Love unfolds man's person-
ality little by little and transforms him into Love's
pattern. This being so, is it any wonder that the Sufi
wishes to be transformed and at times is impatient at
what he thinks is delay, (xcviii.-xcix.)

According to the customs of his environment, the
Sufi thinks the New Moon means New Beginnings.
Therefore he begins a New Life by talking no more
about himself. He " turns down an empty glass " — he
is " empty " of self ! But he is full of Song and Wine,
Beauty and the End. (c-ci.)

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